“Good.”
He headed down the hallway to his office where a fresh pot of coffee waited. After depositing his phone, the callback notes, and Imperatore’s photocopies on his desk, he poured a cup and settled into his chair.
Caffeine did nothing to soften the impact of the news articles. A serial killer? In his corner of the world? Why the hell had he never heard of this string of homicides before?
Yellow Springs, Ohio—near Cincinnati. Brookville, Pennsylvania—about four hours northeast of Vance Township. Keyser, West Virginia—a couple hours southeast. And Manchester, Maryland—the easternmost location of the four. All smaller cities. None as small as Dillard, Phillipsburg, or any other municipality within Pete’s township.
He read the articles twice more. Despite the location size discrepancy, there were definite similarities. Too many to ignore.
He picked up his phone and scrolled through his contacts for one he hadn’t called in years.
The voice that answered the phone resonated with authority. “Special Agent Ethan McCoy.”
“Ethan, you son of a bitch. How’re you doing?”
A pause. “Pete Adams?”
Pete chuckled.
“Good lord, how long’s it been?”
“Too long.”
“Last I heard, you were heading up a department in Monongahela County.”
“Still am. How’s life with the FBI?”
“Never a dull moment.” Another pause. “You must need something.”
Busted. “As a matter of fact, I do.” Pete listed the towns and dates in the newspaper stories. “Mean anything to you?”
Ethan swore.
“I take that as a yes.”
“You take it correctly. We’ve been after this guy over five years.”
“Five? The Yellow Springs homicide is dated eleven years ago.”
“He wasn’t on our radar then. He spaces his killings out, both timewise and location-wise. He’d murdered at least six women before we caught wind of him.”
“Six? I only know of these four.” Or five, if Elizabeth Landis was truly one of the victims.
“We’ve linked him to ten murders to date.”
Pete pinched the bridge of his nose, warding off a blossoming headache. “You’re telling me he’s still at large?”
“Unfortunately. As you’re aware, he prefers Ohio, Pennsylvania, and West Virginia, but he’s also ventured into Maryland, Virginia, and New York.”
“Why have I only learned about these killings this morning?”
“Same reason it took us so long to catch onto him. He’s never escalated. There have been no sexual assaults, and there’s never been any pattern to the length of time between murders. There’s very little to tie them together other than a deserted parking lot, a female victim, and a single gunshot to the head. The victims have nothing in common. No shell casings have ever been found. Ballistics match with two victims here, three there, but he swaps guns every couple of kills. Not that we’ve ever found one of his murder weapons.”
Pete growled. “I may have.”
Six
Zoe’s fitting went well…or would have if not for Kimberly screeching over Patsy’s phone. The neckline was too low, the bodice was too tight, the shoes Zoe had chosen didn’t have a high enough heel.
Unlike her mother, Zoe loved the dress, its fit, and the shoes. Patsy was pleased with her dress as well. Zoe had yet to hear from her other bridesmaid, her best friend Rose out in New Mexico, who was supposed to send photos tomorrow.
Exhausted from dealing with a mystery death, the medical emergency during autopsy, Franklin’s ex, Dr. Davis, and Kimberly, Zoe decided to make one more stop before heading home.
She entered the polished wooden doors at Golden Oaks Assisted Living and veered to the left in search of Pete’s dad. The dining room had already cleared out after the lunch crowd. A trio of elderly residents played cards with the entertainment director at the Bistro, Harry Adams’ favorite spot in the place. At the moment, however, he wasn’t there.
The young woman facilitating the card game smiled at Zoe. “Can I help you with something?”
“I’m looking for Harry Adams. I thought he might be here.”
“He’s probably in his room. Do you know where it is?”
“Sure do.”
The woman winked. “Would you like to take him a milkshake?”
Obviously, the entertainment director knew Harry well. “Yes, please. And one for me too.”
A few minutes later, Zoe climbed the staircase. Harry often forgot who she was, but he never forgot his love of chocolate shakes. She became his new best friend every time she brought him one.
She found him seated at a table in a small family gathering area near his room. He and a young woman in a Golden Oaks polo shirt flanked a checkerboard. From the looks of the stack of checkers in front of Harry, he was winning.
“Hi, handsome.” Zoe bent down to plant a kiss on her soon-to-be father-in-law’s forehead and placed the Styrofoam cup on the table in front of him.
“Well, hello, Sunshine.” He beamed at the cup. “Is this for me?”
“Yes, it is.” Zoe looked at Harry’s checker-mate. “Hey there, Jenna. I’m sorry. I should’ve brought one for you too. I’d give you mine, but I already drank part of it.”
Jenna leaned back and patted her stomach. “Don’t worry about it. Those things are lethal to my diet. I’m still trying to lose the baby weight, and Wylie’ll be a year old next month.”
Zoe claimed a third chair. “How is the little guy?”
“He’s an angel.” Jenna’s face glowed. “I’ve always wanted to be a mom. I’d about given up on finding someone to be the dad. But Ian’s the best thing that’s happened to me. Or second best now. Wylie’s the first. I’ve never been happier.”
Jenna had been on Golden Oaks’ staff since the day Harry’d moved in—other than the stint of maternity leave. Zoe admired the easy way she had with the residents. Especially Pete’s father.
Jenna tapped the board with a fingernail. “It’s your move, Harry.”
He took a long draw on the straw and set the cup down. “Am I red or black?”
“Red.”
He studied the board, reached out, and used a red disk to jump three of Jenna’s. “I win.”
She threw both hands up. “I surrender. You beat me every time.”
Harry gave her an impish grin and picked up his cup.
Jenna climbed to her feet. “I’ll leave you two
